


And In the Ocean We'll Hold Hands

by haveloved



Series: The Domestic Approach [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anniversary, Beach Sex, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haveloved/pseuds/haveloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Rose Tyler-Smith, you're trying to seduce me... aren't you?"</i> Rose and the Doctor's trip to the worst possible place could lead to the best possible night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And In the Ocean We'll Hold Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Challenge 74 at Livejournal's _then_theres_us_ ; the prompt was two pairs of feet by the ocean on a beach, one on tiptoes. The title is a line from The Killers' "Bones".
> 
> This will be the start of my series _The Domestic Approach_ , a loosely linear (for now) series of stories about Rose and TenII's married life. Have fun with it! :D

And In the Ocean We’ll Hold Hands

When he first suggested it, she was most vehemently against it. No, she’d told him, wild horses could not drag her back to the beach from the worst day of her life. Dårlig Ulv-Stranden was _not_ where she wanted to spend their first wedding anniversary, thankyouverymuch.

She’d taught him too well, because within thirty seconds, he’d turned on the puppy dog eyes, the same ones she’d given him the first time they’d gotten caught in this universe, when she wanted to seek out her dad. And just like he’d caved, she did. Far too quickly.

Before she could even have a minute to think over her decision, he’d whisked her into the TARDIS— _their_ TARDIS, she likes to think. Because it isn’t solely the Doctor’s; it’s hers, too. She’d helped the Doctor grow it from that bit of coral and they’d tended to it lovingly over the past year, stocking up the library and wardrobe. It will never be like the other one, the proper one, but it’s more than enough for them.

When they land, the Doctor grabs her hand and pulls her out of the TARDIS, giddy as either a child on Christmas or one on a sugar high (both are apt comparisons, she’s learned). She can’t help but observe him. It had been funny to her at first, how quickly she got used to seeing him in t-shirts and jeans just as often as his suit. This Doctor— _her_ Doctor—somehow looks completely natural in a white t-shirt and board shorts, bare feet treading in the sand.

It’s sunny and deliciously warm—the middle of the day, really—but the place is completely deserted, just as it always is. She is wearing a blue sarong and a slightly skimpy black bikini, but the Doctor is taking no notice of the great view of her breasts, something that makes her huff slightly. Human or not, the Doctor is still, as ever, focused first on the sights and sounds of travel rather than on the sight of his wife. She has to lengthen her stride to catch up with him, clutching his hand tighter as she teases, “D’you somehow always know this place is gonna be deserted?”

“Don’t think anyone knows it but us. Forgotten by time, just like Woman Wept. You remember Woman Wept?” he asks, grasping her hand more firmly and twirling her, then pulling her flush against his body. His glance down tells her that he’s definitely not focused on anything but her breasts now.

“’Course I remember. Of course, I remember it being bloody freezing and having to huddle under your leather jacket.”

“I _did_ warn you it would be cold.”

“Exactly. You said ‘cold,’ not ‘the planet is made of ice, so you’re going to be a bloody icicle after five minutes.’”

“Semantics, Rose.”

“Insanity, Doctor.” A lingering kiss, and she looks up at him, giving him a slightly devious smirk before taking his hand and backing them up towards the ocean. They stand with waves licking their bare feet, and she guides his hands up her back, settling them at the knot holding her bikini top closed. She gets up on her toes, whispering in his ear. “C’mon… place is deserted; we might as well have some fun with it. Give this place a few good memories.”

“Rose Tyler-Smith, you’re trying to seduce me… aren’t you?” A smirk on those lips, the ones she covers with hers, the ones that taste of salty sea air.

“’S working, yeah?”

His hands shaking with arousal and the ecstasy of her forceful kiss, fumbling slightly to untie the knot and toss the top to the floor, then reaching to fondle her breasts. “Quite right,” he murmurs against her lips, and she reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck before she throws her legs around his waist and he stumbles into the surf.

***

After, they lay on a pile of discarded clothing, skin against warm skin, her head pillowed on his chest, his breaths ruffling her unbound hair. Her left hand plays with his, one golden band brushing against another.

“Best days of my life, traveling with you,” she murmurs, “And all of it ended right here.”

His fingers stroking idly through her hair, a habit, something he’ll be doing every day for the rest of this one life. A kiss on her forehead, loving, another habit. “Some good to it now, though.”

“There was some good in this place already,” she concedes softly, warm brown eyes meeting his own with such love that he’s seized with the (admittedly frequent) urge to kiss her insensate. “This is where he gave me you.”

“Bad Wolf Bay,” he murmurs under his breath, the words vibrating through his chest and making her grin, her teeth almost flashing—something of the wolf. “An end and a beginning.”

She nods, dragging herself closer with her elbows and pressing her forehead against his, whispering into his lips, “Happy anniversary, Doctor.”

His index finger trailing lazily up her spine, making her tremble, shiver and shake. “Happy anniversary, Rose.”


End file.
